A:N/Well... It's finally finished.
Believe it or not, this actually took the best part of two years to finish. I started this back in 2014 and I've been working on/off it ever since. When I played Fallout 2 the first time, I remember the scene where the Chosen one comes back with G.E.C.K and trying to imagine how my character would react.
As a result, I had quite a lot of fun writing this little scene, especially since I had the Fallout 2 companions to work with. I've often complained that Fallout 3 characters are pretty difficult to work with as some of them feel one note after you've been working on them a bit but Fallout 2's are hard for a whole different reason. Characters like Sulik have such brilliant dialogue that I think that it's damn near impossible to replicate it. I have seen a number of good Suliks on the site but that doesn't make it any easier on me.
Anyway, hope you enjoy, can't imagine that there is too much Fallout 2 content kicking around right now, what with Fallout 4 being out and all but I hope that anyone who's anyone can enjoy.
The sun was setting over Klamath; the sky had long since turned to a burning orange colour, to warn the Wastelanders to return to their homes before the darkness came and brought the monsters and crazies out with it.
Out in the dusty streets, sat a girl, huddled up, on the sidewalk outside of the Golden Gecko, surrounding by several figures. Her companionship consisted of an abnormally large man, a Super Mutant, wearing a lot of sporting equipment, like it was body armour. She was also accompanied by another type of mutant, a ghoul, who looked like he was going to fall apart, like one of those plastic potato men that the people of Arroyo found on a scavenging run, that one time.
Stood between them were two humans, both of them looked normal, compared to the mutties, stood on either side of them. The most normal was the skinny teenage boy, who looked rather sickly and pale followed by the tribal, stood next to him. A tall and wiry man of unknown race and origin, whose most noticeable feature was a large bone in that jutted out of both of his nostrils, which was some sort of odd traditional tribal piercing.
The four of them stood around the girl, as if waiting for her to address them. They stood in silence, hating each other's company as it was either awkward or insufferable and now that the girl who had brought them all together was in some sort of depressed slump, they were forced to take the reins of their group and lead themselves, as well as her.
Cheyenne, their leader, hadn't said a word, since it happened. She was stunned into a seemingly unbreakable silence. She'd ignored every word said to her, since they left the ruins of Arroyo and moved on to the nearest town, a call made by Cass, who agreed that they needed a good night's rest, to get over the day's events.
Normally, she was incredibly outgoing and often drove most of the group's conversation, which made this all the more worrying. It was like she was a zombie, a husk, an empty shell, devoid of the soul that formerly occupied it and it worried her companions.
Myron glanced, from side to side, hoping to catch one of his companion's eyes, so that they'd start talking but everyone just stood in silence, either out of respect for Cheyenne's grief or fear of a reckoning. Myron, being Myron, couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer and slowly began to mumble.
"Isn't anyone going to say something?" He hissed, his large, almost bulging eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on the big 13, which sat opposite him.
"It's been… What, a day now? Someone needs to go over there and knock some sense into her!"
"Myron, she's just lost her family, her friends, her home… Everything she's ever known, it's going to take some time for her to get through this." Marcus replied as calm as he could, he had a lot more patience for Myron than most of the others did. In truth, Cass had the biggest problem with him as he was a no nonsense man, who didn't have the patience to put up with his horse shit and it didn't help that the little brat was a chem inventor either.
"Yeah, yeah… Boo fuckin' hoo, I still don't see why she can't walk and mope at the same time!"
"She needs her rest, we all do, we need time to plan and get things together, unless you know exactly where to look." Marcus pointed out, narrowing his eyes in disgust at Myron's lack of empathy; it wasn't much more than can be expected from a guy who killed hundreds of slaves to create one stupid recreational drug.
"Her spirits are troubled, scattered and confused…
They need time, to reach consensus." Sulik added, not taking his eyes off of the young tribal but he eventually turned to his group as he finished speaking.
"Word of advice, fren: Don't let her drink… It goes down well, too well, like stone in pond…"
Sulik's words hung in the air, though he spoke in riddles most of the time, he was often right and he was arguably the smartest among them. Myron was not satisfied, however and it didn't take long for him to sound off again.
"How much time does she need? I mean, she's been out here, PMSin' for hours now and hasn't said a goddamn word!"
"J'Just listen to yourself!" Lenny snapped, his trembling voice raised the tone of the argument to that of normal bickering.
"S'she was always here f'for us… E'eager to s'solve our p'p'problems. J-Just like her Grandfather… He…"
"Yeah, yeah, he was a fuckin' hero… I bet he didn't cry like a little bitch, when his home was destroyed." Myron groaned, cutting right through him as he had, had it up to here with Bub's hazy memories.
Lenny began to bumble and grumble, trying to start an angry rant, to get this young whippersnapper to show some respect. Lenny was usually a man of peace, a doctor, not a killer or a fighter. Though he wasn't afraid to kill for the group, he disliked conflict of all nature and it was very rare that someone could anger him, to the point that he said a negative word about anybody. However, he found himself cut off as Myron immediately turned around and began to storm over to Cheyenne, getting ready to 'knock some sense into her.'
"Myron!" Marcus called out, taking his first step towards them both, to try and defuse the situation before it got ugly but he found himself restrained, by Sulik's hand.
"Let this one play out, tense spirits are better unleashed sooner, rather than later…"
Myron was already right behind her now; he curled his hand into a fist, due to the frustration in his gut. He was tired of following Cheyenne around, battening it down and waiting for her to get over herself.
"Hey, Cheyenne! Are you done…?"
Myron was cut off as Cheyenne spun around, pointing her .223 pistol at him, her finger wrapped around one of the two triggers. The teenager's eyes had immediately shifted on the barrel and after a few seconds, he slowly looked around, to see the Chosen One, her eyes were red and glistening with tears but the rest of her face was numb. She honestly looked like she wanted to do it, expel all of her anger in one, easy, squeeze of the trigger. She had Myron in her sites and she held him there…
"Erm… M-Maybe you need another minute…" He concluded, all smart ass comments had packed their bags and fled, leaving him alone with nothing but fear, fear for his own safety as he slowly began to back away, his hands raised, traces of sweat were building up in his hairline as he slowly went back to his friends.
As soon as he had moved away, Cheyenne lowered the gun and went back to her previous, depressed, state. She hung her head and sat in silence, like a child on a 'naughty step,' staring at her own feet.
The Chosen One cannot be weak… The Village Elder's voice echoed inside her head, the words that she had told her, when she had conquered the Temple of Trials.
Or we are all doomed.
M-Mother… Y-You were always doomed… She thought, it took a great deal of willpower to do so as she hung her head and let several tears cascade down her face, hugging her knees and pressing her face into them, until it was completely obscured.
Myron stopped, just short of walking into Marcus, slowly turning back to be greeted by three, disapproving faces.
All of them ugly…
"Nice work…" Marcus grumbled, barely managing to hide his amusement. It was only so easy, because of what he had just seen. Cheyenne wasn't exactly a pacifist; Vault City residency would have been so much easier if she was but… To draw a gun, on her own people? Well, it was Myron but still, she was the more tolerant of Myron's bullshit than anyone, she'd be the last person to do such a thing…
"Fuck guys, she's crazy… I say that we cut out losses..." He stopped to gesture to Cheyenne, with his head.
"And get the fuck out of here…"
"S-Since when d-d-did we start doin' what you say?" Lenny bumbled, he had a point, Myron never particularly had a voice in the group…
"Well, L-L-Lenny. Since Cheyenne lost her friggin' mind, it's time that someone else gets us the fuck out of here and away from that… psycho bitch!"
"A cooking pot to campfire situation…" Sulik observed, with a somewhat amused grin on his face at Myron's sudden desire to take charge, despite his lack of influence.
"Grampy Bone says that we stay put with the 'mad' one."
"Fine, bone nose stays with Miss Havisham. Any of you people not an idiot?"
Marcus and Lenny looked to each other, not even looking like they were considering it. Cheyenne plucked them from their, previously dull, lives and gave them purpose or freedom from the shackles of responsibility. Lenny didn't leave Gecko, to follow some teenage pervert and the same could be said for Marcus.
"Fine, didn't want you freaks anyway, when the two old guys get their asses out here and see what I'm seein,' we're outta here."
Cheyenne knew that he was talking about her, mutinying, but she didn't care, they could all go, if they wanted, she wasn't stopping them. She'd actually prefer to be alone, to rot on this sidewalk, waste away and return to dust. Exposure and starvation, a fitting end for a weak 'saviour.'
It was then that the door opened and Vic stepped out, he was an old guy, balding, in a dirty grey shirt, that was once white. Sadly, time and a few clumsy manoeuvres with a number of brown beverages took care of that. He wore a brown waist coat that matched his brown trousers and almost carpet slipper-like shoes. He was armed with a pipe rifle, slung over his shoulder, which was, at one time, the one gun that the group had in circulation. Cass came along, with a sawed off shotgun and Myron always had his Needler pistol, Marcus eventually came along and won the 'mine's bigger than yours' contest, as he was armed with a minigun.
Vic was greeted with an air of discontent, Myron was staring at him, frowning, like he was waiting for a response, to a question that he hadn't been asked. This made him feel a little uneasy but he managed to push past it.
"The Boss okay?" He asked, peering over the top of Myron's greasy scalp, to check on the young Tribal, who was huddled up on the side of the road.
"No, she isn't, she's out of her fuckin' mind! I ain't seen a milf this fuckin' crazy, since batch 14!" He paused to sniff, though he kept up his usual irate yell, he was slowly losing confidence, realising that he was of the minority opinion here.
Vic brought a hand to his chin, grazing his thumb against it, dragging it along the stubble, which felt like sandpaper at this point.
"Well… Anyone tried to talk to her at least?"
Everyone stopped to look at each other, including Myron before looking to Sulik, who seemed to be the man for the job. A 'kindred spirit,' who had a similar origin and tragedy, Sulik knew that this was coming and slowly nodded before turning back to the young girl, seeing that she was now looking straight ahead but not at anything…
"Perhaps we and I can reach out to her…" The Tribal sighed, though even he didn't' sound convinced, Cheyenne was broken, to say the least. He knew this, because he was there once, after Kurisu was taken, he knew the pain that she felt, how lost and angry she was but also, the void of nothing that now filled her gut, the greatest infliction of a damaged spirit.
The Tribal, without any further prompting, stepped forward and slowly approached his companion, making sure that he kept some distance between them, just in case she drew her weapon on him.
He slowly stepped around, trying to get a better look at the young Tribal's face, curious to see if she was still crying. He'd never seen her like this before, normally she'd shrug it off, make a joke about it or swear, swear so loud that she'd make Grampy Bone twitch.
Yet… Here she was… Sat, by herself, staring out onto the horizon.
She wasn't just sad, she was broken, not that she didn't have good reason to be…
"You have come by way of sorrow fren." Sulik informed her, getting a glance from her tear stained eyes.
"Did grampy bone tell you that? Or were you able to work it out yourself?" She grumbled, not bitterly, more… sarcastic, a little more light hearted than she was with Myron or anyone else.
"It was a joint effort." He replied, getting a smirk and a light chuckle out of Cheyenne, who gently shook her head.
"D-Dammit Sulik…" She said, chuckling a little more, sniffing as she did so and furiously wiping the tears from her eyes.
"I… Can hear you talking about me." She added, her voice was strained and bunged up from all of the crying that she had done.
"You… Must think I'm pretty pathetic, huh?" She asked, voice straining as she resisted the urge to burst into tears again. Sulik, however, said nothing, he simply sat down on the floor, crossing his legs.
"Perhaps its just the shock fren but We and I find it difficult to believe that you forget how our stars crossed so easily."
Cheyenne's brow furrowed as she tried to decipher his meaning, she didn't usually have much difficulty but today…
"Do you not remember we and I, working off the damages of our grief?"
"Y-Yes… Sorry, Sulik, I… I'm just a little tired."
"You know the pain of what we and I lost as do we and I know the pain of what you lost. We and I have this connection, no?"
"I… Suppose you're right, your sister is still out there, one of the many things that I've failed to do…"
"Bah, failure can only come to those who start. Anyone who fails before they start are too low for us to even deserve a name, not even the spirits will grant them one."
"Still… I haven't really been putting much work into finding her, have I?"
"We and I do not hold grudges over your priorities, we saw the gravity of your predicament, the constraints that time had placed on you. More lights hung in the balance; We and I can make peace with that."
He paused as he awaited Cheyenne's response but none came, she simply hung her head and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to cry again. Sulik noticed how quickly she had withdrew and knew that he had to reach out to her, knowing that he walked on thin ice, he chose his words carefully.
"What hurts you, child?"
Cheyenne paused, thinking on his question as she did so… In truth? She had no idea what the source of her pain was, her family were either dead or taken by a mysterious force, she might never see them again. This alone would destroy her but the fact that she was their Chosen one, their protector? There were so many points in her journey where she had the chance to stop somewhere, stay the night or keep moving. So many people along the way, who she stopped and helped. Why? Why couldn't she have put her own people first? The reason that she was out here, it wasn't to help every person, ghoul or machine with a sob story, it was to feed her people.
"I… Failed…" She uttered, in a strained voiced, though she was composed.
"My people trusted me with their lives, I was their only hope and…" Cheyenne paused, glancing back down to the floor as she took several deep breaths, sighing heavily.
"Well, they got what they deserved."
"Your bitterness clouds your mind, we and I know this but your pain stems from your failure in completing your quest?"
Cheyenne nodded, hanging her head and closing her eyes with a sigh, at least someone got it…
"A quest that you had finished and were on the way to completing when these dark fiends attacked, no?"
Cheyenne nodded again, though this time she had no idea where he was going with this, was he trying to rub it in or acquit her? Either way, she would like him to stop…
"Then We and I are curious as to how you could fail at a task that you completed. You have the G.E.C.K, no? G.E.C.K not going anywhere, not without Me or Grampybone's say on the matter.
We and I see this as a new quest, a new task, an upsetting and downright annoying one but a new task non-the-less. The spirits see no failure in you, neither do I."
"The spirits aren't looking right then… I've had… how long to do this? And I've wasted a load of my time screwing around." The Tribal uttered, sounding somewhat annoyed as she spoke, almost to the point that she wanted to simply walk away from the conversation but things weren't that dire, not yet at least.
"You might call it that but We and I saw the spirits dance in your touch, spirits drawing into yours and brightening as they touch. We and I believe that your journey wasn't for naught in the grand scheme of things."
Cheyenne sighed, knowing what he was talking about but not agreeing with it, she had helped those in the wasteland she came across but that wasn't her mission. She'd wasted her time away, helped complete strangers at the expense of her own family…
She'd failed Aroyo, her elder, grandmother…
She'd… Failed overall really…
Sulik could see that he hadn't truly convinced her, it was a pity but he understood how inconsolable she was at the moment… The pain that he felt when the slavers took his Sis didn't allow him to see reason or to rationalize a solution. He didn't expect Cheyenne to do the same…
"Y'know... Grampy Bone say trails are like tea, tea goes cold the longer you leave it, only difference is you can warm tea up again after. Trails? Not so easy…"
Cheyenne slowly looked up to him, falling silent as she thought on his words, Sulik was right… She'd wasted enough time moping, it was time to pick up the pieces, get back on the trail and find her people.
She owed them a victory…
"Alright." She said, with a faint smile, giving him a sniff as she slowly rose to her feet, getting a surprised glare from her tribal companion, not that he was ungrateful but he expected her to require a lot more convincing than that.
"C'mon… Let's go inside and get us a room and some drinks, first round's on me." She announced to the others, getting a worried look from all of them.
"Damn Boss, you really are sick!" Vic said, his eyes widened to the point that they outdid Myron's.
"Yeah, you dying or something?" Marcus added, getting the Tribal to smile to them for the first time that day, laughing faintly under her breath as she wiped the tears away.
"C'mon guys, I'm not that cheap…" She said, through a strained chuckle, bordering on the urge to both laugh and to cry at the same time. Cheyenne suddenly found herself torn as to what she wanted, did she want to fall, face down, onto her bed and go to sleep? Or did she want a stiff drink? Both was always an option, given that the NCR had given her 6000 caps recently.
"C'mon…" She said, grumbling a little as she dragged her sleeve across her face, wiping off the mucus from under her nose and the tears in her eyes.
"Let's get inside and get a drink… Tonight we'll rest up easy, because tomorrow?" She paused, glancing down to the floor as a small grin appeared on her lips and she slowly looked up to her companions.
"Tomorrow, these assholes won't know what hit them…"